


spontaneous combustion

by waspfactor



Series: entropy [2]
Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Absent Parents, Asano Gakuhou Says Poggers, Asano Gakuhou's Bad Parenting, Canonical Child Abuse, Character Study, Child Neglect, Developing Relationship, Family Issues, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspfactor/pseuds/waspfactor
Summary: it’s an icy november day where the stagnant air is colder than the occasional breeze when his parents come back, and everything gets bad.(or, karma, his parents, high school and gakushuu- not in that order)
Relationships: Akabane Karma & Akabane Karma's Parents, Akabane Karma/Asano Gakushuu
Series: entropy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018348
Comments: 10
Kudos: 162





	spontaneous combustion

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!!!!!! here's my karma character study and OF COURSE it has child neglect/abuse stuff in it :D clearly the only thing i can write about it. looking back i could defo had made this Angstier but also i feel like a karma centric narrative doesn't really allow for Deep and Heavy thoughts about emotion. defo want to explore a sadder karma at some point tho so keep an eye out for that
> 
> a lot of headcannons present in this fic, i listed on my tumblr! if u want to see the full scope of how i envision the akabane's, visit wasp-factor on tumblr >:))
> 
> this is part of the entropy series but you don't have to read the other fic in that series for this. 'probability theory' is a precanon thinkpiece about karma and his relationship with luck, while this fic is the real bread and butter of it all
> 
> there's a lot of underage drinking in this (only realised now while tagging it) and while i can't give lectures about not drinking underage um pls be careful!!!!
> 
> this was inspired by the song 'parties are for losers' by ferry on youtube. ferry's songs are beautiful in every sense and r. really good. if u want even a hint of a vibe from this fic, defo check it out!!!!!

He finishes junior high the same way he starts it: alone. There a few more details here and there (Korosensei, E Class, scoring first in midterms) but those are semantics. He arrives back at his house alone. It’s as he left it this morning. There’s a blank postcard of a generic nature scene sent to him, signed only with his father’s signature, in the mail for him. He’s alone.

Karma knows he’s an idiot for thinking today would be any different, laughs bitterly. They didn’t come back, even after their son got into one of the largest international incidents ever ( _the fucking moon is gone, and he was taught by an alien for a whole year_ ). He celebrates the end of junior high by pouring himself a glass of wine, before deciding that, hey, you only graduate once.

The next morning he’s hanging badly. There’s an out of time orchestra in his head and he is but a poor cello player trying to catch up. He attempts to have lunch (slept through breakfast) and finds his attitude has left him. He shudders when he sees the wine bottle again and then promptly throws up.

Off to a great start, really.

He sits like a waiting duck for high school. His street is flooded with paparazzi and news reporters and journalists and it’s all a little too much. He sets up a group video call with the rest of his classmates to laugh at them.

Soon enough, Karasuma gets them to back, flashing badges and riot shields. Karma watches from his bedroom window, waves as they all leave him alone. He (correctly) guesses that this isn’t the last time he’ll deal with the press.

High school arrives, bringing another blank postcard. The uniform doesn’t fit his arms quite right, so he opts for his black blazer again. Nagisa wishes him good luck and Karma tells him that he’s gonna get into an extra fight, just for him. Nagisa tells him he isn’t funny.

He walks to school, alone and looks up at the behemoth in front of him. A new school, new hierarchy, new people, new challenges.

“You’re not wearing the school uniform. Akabane, it’s our _first_ day.”

Asano, uniform pristine stands behind him, his hands on his hips. The bags under his eyes are lighter now and there’s more colour in his skin. “How’s the old man taking everything?”

“As well as one can. He’s stepped down from his position of Director but he’s the majority shareholder which means he won’t disappear completely. The press want me to do a special about how I’m akin to a princess locked up in a tower, how I’m a victim of the system,” He scoffs. “Pathetic, really. I won’t allow myself to be infantilised by the rumour mill.”

Karma raises an eyebrow at that, reminding himself that is nor the time or the place or someone he knows _that_ well. “I’m surprised you even managed to get to school without being swarmed. Surely there’s some reporters that want to see their damsel in distress.”

“Oh, I was,” Asano cracks his knuckles, massages his arm joint and a _real_ smile bursts out on his face. “I took some of those military training classes that you must’ve taken last year. It’s been a real eye opener to see how E Class won all of the competitions last year.”

“That won’t get those 3 points back, yknow.”

Asano straightens out his back, feathers ruffled. “Those three points will mean nothing when I take first place from you in exams.”

Karma rolls his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

Come true to his word, in the first semester midterms, Asano does in fact rank first. He gets second, joint with another student. Karma knows that academic ranking doesn’t matter as much to him as it does Asano. The first place puts him in a good mood for the rest of the day, a small smile on his face as he greets other students in the corridor- let him have it.

He goes home that night and finds another blank postcard, which is new. They don’t normally send one during term.

It’s an icy November day where the stagnant air is colder than the occasional breeze when his parents come back, and everything gets bad.

Karma comes home to a car pulled up in the driveway and the front door open. His stomach twists itself into knots. This is, quite possible, the worst possible scenario. His hand tightens around the coin in his trouser pocket.

He had planned on heading straight to his bedroom, bolting it shut but his mother had caught him sneaking up the stairs and insisted they all sat down and had a nice, wee _talk._ This is the first time Karma’s seen them in… almost 2 years. There is nothing to ‘talk’ about.

It’s only when they’re sitting down that Karma remembers the resemblance. He’s his father’s child, striking hair and a mind built for success, but it’s his mother’s fiery soul that rests between his eyes. The bags under her eyes have somehow deepened, making her look even more irritated. Hair tangly and in a messy bun, she even looked like she didn’t want to be here- Karma’s impressed.

His father is dressed for business, buzzcut and black turtleneck. It makes him look like Karasuma; with the cold stare he gives around the house. He had built this house himself, had decorated it himself. Karma hopes he likes the improvements he made.

“Where’s our photos together?”

Karma had taken them down ages ago. “In the attic.”

“Why?” His mother asks in Russian.

“Why hang pictures of people who don’t live here?” He answers in Japanese.

His mother sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose as if Karma’s still a toddler learning right from wrong. “Listen-“

“Don’t start it,” Karma snaps and his mother looks offended, mouth agape and a frown. She suits it. “You didn’t come back to give a lecture and I don’t want to hear it. What are you doing back?”

His father sharpens his gaze. “Don’t talk to your mother like that. Apologise.”

It’s been a long time since his father held any power over him, the threats of the military academy all but dust now. “She might’ve given birth to me but she’s _not_ my mother,” He stabs an accusing finger at the older man. “And you’re not my father.” Karma feels like a child, but his parents have the emotional maturity of rocks.

While most parents would react to his previous statement in abject horror, the fact their only child has disowned them, Elizaveta and Akihito Akabane keep neutral faces. It reminds Karma of the principal. “Kichirou-“

“It’s Karma now.” He icily interjects. He hadn’t been called _that_ in years.

“This is getting ridiculous,” His father makes a show of gently banging his fist on the table but even his ‘gentle’ mode causes the mugs on the table to jitter around. His mother raises an eyebrow at the commotion. “You can hate us, all you want, I’m not bothered but if you’re living under this roof, _my roof,_ Kichirou Akabane _,_ you will show some level of respect.”

Karma’s had enough of this, he’s entertained these fools for long enough. “Fine. Guess I just won’t live here then.”

And that’s how he ends up wandering the streets, suitcase in hand. He goes through the list of people he knows. He could stay at Nagisa’s, but his mother is even more suffocating than his own. He can’t guarantee that he wouldn’t mouth her off, either. Rio is a possibility, she’d take him, but he doesn’t think her family would just… accept their daughter taking in a former classmate ( _a boy, at that_ ). Kayano’s still swamped by the press, Isogai has enough on his plate, he doesn’t want to live with Terasaka, so on and so forth.

He knocks on the residence of the Asano’s and suddenly feels very small.

“Akabane?” Asano’s hair is wet, like he just came out of the shower.

“Hi. Can I stay with you for a bit?”

Asano thinks about it for a second before letting him in. “I thought you lived alone.”

“I do.”

The gears in Asano’s head spin as he chooses his next choice of words. “Okay.” Is all he _physically_ says but more words hang unspoken between them.

“Is that Akabane?” And woah, that voice brings back memories. The principal pops his head out of the kitchen, a smile on his face, a real one at that. Karma doesn’t like it.

“Hello, Principal Asano,” Karma’s not in the right mood for what long, taunting jabs he could fire at him. “Or is it ex-principal now?”

“Asano is fine. What brings you here at this hour? Studying with Gakushuu?”

“Akabane will be boarding with us for tonight,” Asano answers for him. “I presume that’s acceptable?”

The senior Asano tilts his head. “And what is wrong with Akabane’s own house? You live alone, correct?”

Karma grimaces. “My parents are visiting.”

“…I don’t think I ever met your parents.”

Karma only hums at that.

“Very well, then,” He disappears before popping his head out again. “Gakushuu. Keep your door open.”

Asano’s face drops into a scowl and he starts rambling about ‘old dogs shouldn’t bark the last of their energy away’ as he drags Karma upstairs. “I apologise for him. He’s essentially been on house arrest and he’s itching to speak to anyone that isn’t court-mandated to be here.”

“Cabin fever?”

“Worse. He’s had no one but me to stimulate his brain,” Asano physically cringes. “He’s thinking about buying a next generation gaming console and educating people through the voice chat. So embarrassing.”

Karma laughs as Asano lets them into his room, a minimalistic little thing with well-organised books and an acoustic guitar hung up on the wall. Karma looks in the mirror to fix his wind-swept hair and notices the only picture in the room; Asano and his friends, all smiles with Asano’s eyes crinkle at their corners. “Cute pic.”

“Shut up,” Asano opens his wardrobe and pulls out a sleeping bag. “You’ll be taking the floor for tonight. I’d let you sleep downstairs but that’s where father stays during the night.”

“And they say hospitality is dead,” Karma swoons mockingly. “Not throwing me into the lion’s den, just like a true man.”

“This entire house is a lion’s den,” Asano sneers, throwing the sleeping bag to Karma. He sits down on his own bed while Karma sits at his desk chair. There’s an awkward pause and then- “What are your parents like?”

“That was subtle.”

“Clearly their presence alone is enough to displace you. You seem uncomfortable talking about them. I’m curious.”

Karma rubs at his eyes and crosses his legs. “Neglectful people who forgot about me for most of junior high and now, they’re back.”

Asano raises an eyebrow, leaning back on his bed. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Asano is quiet before getting up and pulling out a small notebook from under his floorboards. “Will you at least tell me how close I was?” He begins flicking through the book.

“What?”

“I’m a people watcher. I like keeping tabs on people. Last year, I thought it best to keep a record of E Class,” He shows Karma a random page. It’s entitled ‘Isogai’. “Plans for the future, family life, sports, anything that could be useful at some point. Most is from information from your academic file, but your file was never in the principal’s office. So, enlighten me if I was correct about your parent’s occupations.”

Karma isn’t even surprised at the revelation, just mildly entertained. “Shoot.”

Asano sits up straight, excited. There’s a gleam in his eyes, the same one when he takes an exam. “Your mother is a finical advisor. She’s good at mental arithmetic but doesn’t apply herself enough to do anything with it,” He shoots a look at Karma’s stoic face before continuing. “Your father is a cardiovascular surgeon. He’s always enforced a regime of healthy eating so that’s why you _insist_ on eating on anything but. They have no expectations of you and don’t really pay attention to your personal life, so you act out as a way of attention seeking.”

He finishes speaking and looks up from his book, a small smirk on his face.

“You’re close. They’re state auditors. They expect me to do well in exams but at the same time, they don’t really care,” He shrugs. “Good attempt though.”

Asano squints his eyes but doesn’t say anything more. He places the book back in the floorboard and instead, pulls out a bottle of wine. Karma blinks, confused. He gets down on the floor, sitting next to the other.

“Alcohol?”

Asano places a finger against his lips. “Father doesn’t know I have this. It was supposed to be drunk after graduation but the other Big 5 refused to let me come back here after the news came out,” He motions for Karma’s empty water bottle. “Figured we could drink it now. You seem like you need a distraction.”

Karma doesn’t argue against that. “A toast,” Asano decants half the bottle in Karma’s empty water flask and keeps his half in the wine bottle for himself. “To Korosensei.”

“Korosensei?”

A real smile tugs on Asano’s lips. “He changed everything,” A pause. “Father…smiles again, even laughs now. He calls me Gakushuu and says that he’s proud,” He rolls his eyes. “And I _suppose_ he was a good teacher too. That’s a pretty good reason.”

Karma supposes that it is. .

They sit there, in relative silence, as they sip the white wine. Karma swirls it in bottle, watching the whirlpool of alcohol spin. It’s nice, sitting ( _vibing_ ) in a bedroom that feels like it came out of an IKEA catalogue. At one point, Asano gets his guitar and strums for a while, humming occasionally. Karma lets his eyes close and lets his mind switch off. Behind his eyes, he sees a kaleidoscope of yellow tentacles, blue butterflies, green knives, a stained-glass mosaic of memories.

The peaceful silence is broken as soon as it sets in. “…Can I get a hug?” It’s barely a whisper.

Before Karma can answer, Asano’s face is pink and he’s looking away. “Uh- forget I said that.”

“Come here, idiot,” Karma scoots closer to him. “A hug would be nice.” He whispers. Asano considers it in his mind before wrapping his arms around Karma. His skin is hot to the touch, Karma notes.

The hug lasts a while and at one point, Karma feels Asano shake. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t say anything. There’s a million conversations that hang unspoken, untouched, between the two of them, like a heavy, impending fog. Karma ignores it, sighs, and relaxes a bit more in the hug. When Asano finally pulls away, his eyes are puffy, and his skin has a model-like sheen to it. Maybe it’s the wine (it’s most definitely the wine) but Karma has never seen how… _purple_ the other’s eyes are.

“Your eyes are purple.” He blurts out loud.

Asano blinks. “Yeah.” He’s still within Karma’s personal space.

Karma’s a teenager who has been through a lot, has seen a lot. Mentally, he’s still reeling from junior high, from his parents. Arguably he’s been dealt a shitty hand, has worked hard despite that. But. God. It’s all so hard. All work and no play, or whatever Maehara used to chide Isogai about. His head spins as he mentally approaches his conclusion. He’s allowed to have some luxury in life, right? What’s a little indulgence from time to time. Yeah. Okay. He throws all his fucks to the wind and pulls Asano into a kiss.

Asano jumps at first before reciprocating the kiss. He’s all desperate, as if he’d die if he weren’t kissed. He immediately leans in closer, slender hands bracing themselves on Karma’s knees. Karma faintly notes he smells like cinnamon, closes his eyes to smell it better.

When he opens his eyes, it’s morning. Asano is gone, the wine is gone but there’s a small commotion of glass and distant chatter from downstairs. His head feels a thousand times heavier. Karma looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, realises he’s slept funny and that his t-shirt is crumpled up. He looks rough.

The Asano’s are downstairs eating breakfast, the elder one looking the same as he did last night. He’s reading a newspaper in… Mandarin, Karma suspects, taking a place at the table. “Morning.” His throat is dry.

Asano’s hanging clearly, a tired look on his face as he plays with his eggs. He meets Karma’s eyes before looking back down at his plate.

If the principal suspects anything, he doesn’t say anything. He does, however, congratulate Karma for coming second in the exams and gushes about how he’s so happy that Gakushuu has such a well-matched academic rival. “Without competition, there is no excellence. For survival of the fittest to occur, competition must be present.”

Asano’s clearly been hearing rhetoric like this for ages. “It’s 8am, can we _please_ not do the whole…” He drags out his words, clearly forgetting a word. He snaps his fingers a few time and mutter under his breath in English. “…Spiel?” He eventually manages.

Asano Senior raises an eyebrow. “You should eat up, Gakushuu. Drinking alcohol on an empty stomach, it’s a miracle you haven’t thrown up today.”

The youngest splutters and narrows his eyes at his father, continuing to eat. Asano just smiles, going on about how he can’t pull the wool over _everyone’s_ eyes.

That night, Karma begins to pack his things, figuring he’ll have to return home now. “You can stay here for longer,” Asano says absentmindedly, typing away at his laptop. “You don’t have to go back just yet.”

If Karma didn’t know any better, he’d think Asano _wants_ him to stay. He thinks about it briefly, weighing up staying here or leaving. “I need to get my laptop. And some more clothes.”

That’s how Karma ends up scaling the side of his house and shimming open his bedroom window, feeling like a burglar in his own house. He takes his laptop, throws some clothes in a backpack, and takes some of the cash reserve he kept in a hidden drawer. He leaves as quietly as enters, being careful to not injure himself on the way back down.

As he meets Asano at the bottom of the driveway, who’s inconspicuously keeping watch the front door opens. “Kichirou?” It’s his mother, a curious look on her face rather than worry. She’s in silk loungewear, a cup of tea in her hand. Just his luck. Still, better her than _him._

Karma holds up a hand. “Just came to get some stuff. See you.”

His mother nods at him before closing the door again.

Asano looks at the house and then at Karma and then at the door before back to Karma. He opens his mouth, stutters, and closes it again. Karma can practically hear the gears whirling in his mind.

The way back to the Asano residence is filled with silence. Asano fixes his gaze on Karma but says nothing.

Karma sighs and answers the question in the air. “Yes, my real name is Kichirou.”

Asano breaks out into a shit eating grin. “ _Kichirou._ ”

“ _Gakushuu._ ”

It’s a weird routine they fall into. Karma stays at the Asano’s, has late-night study sessions with the youngest (who had blurted out randomly one night, _call me by my name_ ), offers an academic challenge to the former principal. Most nights, after a competitive bout of tests, he and Gakushuu sit close to one another and… well they don’t talk, exactly. They stare at each other, figuring the other one out. It’s like a game of chess but it’s played in your head and the other player is unaware of the match going on (okay, so it’s not really like chess at all). It’s unusual, sure, but nothing in Karma’s life is usual. 

Gakushuu’s decent company and so is the rest of his friends. Clearly, Gakushuu’s already explained the peculiar living arrangement; they don’t mention it. Karma sends a photo of a sleeping Gakushuu into the old Class 3-E chat and lets it blow up with rapid fire, confused texts. Nagisa is left perplexed, Rio sends in a deep-fried meme and Fuwa types out a message so hard she breaks her phone screen. The best reaction to it all is when he properly explains it to his former classmates, Itona sends in a thumb’s up emoji and that’s that, really.

The principal is another matter entirely. Karma doesn’t have a read on him. Sure, he was easy enough to figure out when he was principal, his motives were clearer cut there. Work hard, E Class suck, I’m a bad father, yada, yada. Now, however, he’s all smiles and ‘oh Akabane, tell me quick, what’s the prime factorisation of 1732992’ and ‘hey what does poggers mean?”

“Do you miss him?” He asks one night while Karma’s fixing himself and Gakushuu coffee. “Korosensei, I mean.”

“Yes.” Karma answers without hesitation. He misses Korosensei so much that it _hurts._ He brought over the handbook he had made for him, showing Gakushuu the true excellence of his teaching.

Asano hums. “I see. I’m planning on recreating his educational model next academic year.”

“I thought you got barred from teaching…cos of Korosensei?”

“ _Technically_ , I was only barred from the Kunugigoaka Board of Education. But I can open up another school,” He looks down at the paper in front of him, a wistful look in his eyes. “I think I’ll start with a cram school.”

The former principal is weird, even vaguely human at times. Karma keeps a list on his phone of all the _interesting_ things about him, such as he keeps Vietnamese centipedes (all named after character’s from Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ) and that, in his coffee, he takes _exactly_ 3 and ¾’s teaspoons of organic cane sugar.

After a month and a bit of crashing at the Asano’s, even Karma admits this has gone too far. It was fun, living in a pseudo-fantasy where he could just forget about his real-life problems. He realises what he must do next. He packs his things (he leaves his spare toothbrush), thanks both the Asano’s (Gakushuu gives him a look that Karma can’t figure out) and starts to walk back. Even though he only lives 20 minutes away, the walk feels like it lasts years. The streets that he’s spent so much of his life playing on now feel like long winding labyrinths. His mind spins, going through possible scenarios, what’s he going to say to his parents.

He can already see them, stony faced as he returns. They won’t say anything, they never do, but they’ll be laughing internally, that their child came crawling back to them. He grinds his teeth so hard that the thought slips out of his head.

The coin flips. He gets home; no car in the driveway, no lights on. Heads.

The weight that’s been on his shoulders lifts. He’s alone once more.

There is no blank postcard left this time but a letter. ‘ _Kichirou’,_ written neatly in ink.

Karma weighs up the letter in his hands, debating whether to read it not.

After careful consideration and a phone call to Nagisa, he decides that he should.

_(Kichirou_.)

He doesn’t spend Christmas (and subsequently his birthday) alone, despite the empty house. He invites over friends, invites Gakushuu too who ends up bringing _his_ friends. His house has never seen so many people in it at once, all laughs and smiles. Gakushuu, who ends up drinking some of the sake that Maehara had brought over, ends up spilling the beans.

“Kichirou!” He singsongs, conducting with his fingers. “Speak some Russian Kichirou!”

( _I hope this letter finds you well._ )

Gakushuu invites him over to his house for the New Year. The house is filled with well-dressed adults, diplomats, businessmen- _holy shit, is that Karasuma-sensei talking to Ex-Principal Asano?_ When he spots Karma and Gakushuu, whispering away to each other, he weaves back into the crowd. Karma doesn’t see him again that night, much to Kurahashi’s disappointment. 

The clock strikes midnight and Gakushuu humbly mutters ‘happy birthday’ to himself. Karma pulls him and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, sliding him a gift.

Gakushuu looks down at the present. “I didn’t get you one.”

“Just open it.”

It’s a thin, writing pen, encased in white gold. Gakushuu twirls it in his hand, before pressing the button on the side of it. A small knife point jumps out and Gakushuu laughs.

( _Your father and I have more business to attend to. We’re heading to Western China for an indefinite amount of time)_

Later that night, when most of the guests have left and Gakushuu’s passed on his bed, Asano corners Karma. “I know you and Gakushuu are courting. For some time now.”

Karma’s still slightly buzzed. “…What?”

“And I just wanted to let you know that while I _personally_ think that there will _never_ be someone good enough for Gakushuu, you’re alright.”

Karma takes that as a compliment, even if he is a little confused. He senses a ‘let me brag about my son’ barrage incoming so he quickly deflects.

“I know you and Karasuma-sensei are courting.”

Asano laughs. “You’re alright, Akabane. You’re alright.”

_(It is unknown when we will return)_

“Father thinks we’re courting.”

“Yes, I know. He told me on your birthday, when you were too much of a lightweight to stay awake.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m never drinking again.”

_(We hope you continue to excel in your studies)_

“Are we dating?”

“I guess? I mean, you’re holding my hand right now and we’re on a date.”

“Hm. We never made it official.”

“I think we made it official when you threw everything into our rivalry in junior high. Rio’s had a secret betting pool about us for months.”

“If it’s so secret, how do _you_ know about the secret dating pool.”

“Well, duh. I obviously placed bets in it. Play for both teams so you always come out on top, that sorta thing.”

“Ugh. Remind me why I like you.”

“Where to start…”

_(Stay out of trouble)_

It’s approaching the end of the academic year when Karma knows what must be done. He compiles all 15 of the blank postcards he’s collected over the last 4 years, the letter, it’s envelope, the present his parents had sent once. For all forms of communication between the two parties, for all the documentation that acknowledges them as his parents and him as their son, it barely fills a plastic shopping bag.

He empties it all into a metal bucket and pours on the lighter fluid.

_(Yours truly, Elizaveta and Akihito)_

Head. Tails. Yes. No. Red. Black.

He flicks a match, and it all goes up in flames.

**Author's Note:**

> even when i first watched assclass in 2016/2017 i've always been confused by karma's first name- always thought there /has/ to be more to it, no way is his name karma lmaooo. so yous can take kichirou out of my cold dead hands i live by that hc now LMAOOO
> 
> one day i will write asano/karasuma..... one day.....
> 
> if u enjoyed let me know!!!!!


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